Evening of November the 7th
by death-in-the-orchard
Summary: During Abraham Van Hellsing's time, and following the end of Bram Stoker's "Count Dracula" - Abraham, Dr. Seward, Lord Godalming, and Jonathan Harker are faced with the aftermath of their failed hunt.


The wooden stake creaked in his tightening fist as Abraham stared down at the coffin, empty except for the grave dirt the Count had left behind. The Count's cold blood froze on the surface of Abraham's leather glove, as well as on the sleeve of his crimson trench coat. Gradually the stinging snow struck the man and his three living companions more softly, the swirling wind dying down after the Count's sudden departure.

Mina Harker and the American, Quincey Morris, lay dead in the snow many yards apart; Quincey lay beside the coffin, while Mina lay across the line of the holy circle Dr. Van Hellsing had drawn for them. A bullet from a Worcester rifle was buried in her heart, another in the side of her head. The snow gathered over the dead bodies, already draining the color from their cheeks. Presently, Jonathan Harker fell to his knees, and Abraham turned to watch him, as the desolate husband crawled over the sinking snow, and then gripped his dead wife by the shoulders. He turned her, so he could look upon her face, and not her wound. He shook her, and some of the collecting snow fell from her body, but not entirely. She was whitening.

Arthur Holmwood, who had recently inherited the title of Lord Godalming, somberly made his way towards Quincey Morris. John Seward stood at Abraham's side with both Hellsing's and his own Worchester rifle in his hands; he too watched the living with a somber expression.

The hatred and loathing that had filled Jonathan Harker through the course of their failed hunt, now collapsed in on itself. And Lord Godalming could not bear to look at young Mina. Needing to gain some distance from the girl as Dr. Van Hellsing bent over her to see that she had indeed passed on, that the golden cross he placed over the red scar on her brow would not burn, Lord Godalming knelt in the deepening snow beside the body of his dead American friend. He kept his back to the Professor and the widowed Mr. Harker, and his proud posture bowed in shame. Undescribable bitterness flushed through them, as the men withstood the cold that built and buried their bags of tools, and few with the golden cross in his hand, while Jonathan laid his face, tears freezing over his cheeks, on his dead wife's breast, Abraham Van Hellsing stared off into the snowy landscape, and crossed himself silently.

John raised his voice over the wind and the calls of wolves it carried, as all four men felt the sharp snowflakes pepper them with gathering strength, "The Count has no other shelter to seek besides the snow. It's evening now, his power only strengthens; it'll only grow darker, and the storm is rising. The wolves might try to ambush us, and the gypsies have taken our horses. There is no running from them." He watched as Abraham crouched beside the empty coffin, and reached deep inside his pocket to retrieve a bag of holy wafers. John continued to watch, as he spoke again in his raised voice, "After Dr. Van Hellsing has finished sterilizing the Count's final box of earth, we must move ourselves to the castle."

"No!" Jonathan wrenched himself away from Mina's silent breast, his teeth exposed in a despairing scowl. Abraham grimaced over his work, while John's startled response cooly settled back into his steeled calm. Jonathan fell silent after his outburst, and his head gradually hung low, and his eyes shut. He was holding Mina's icy white hand, having removed her glove and his own to feel it, to see if any warmth yet remained.

Mina Harker had been unfortunate enough to possess two ties to the monster Dracula, through Miss Westenra, and through Jonathan himself. It almost seemed fated, that she would come to this end. And, in the end, the blessed power which was meant to save and cure her had fought too bitterly against the vampire's curse. The blood that had welled to her lips had left streaks that Harker now wiped away. He shut her open eyes, and tried to see whether her soul was at peace - to see the tranquility Dr. Seward had described in Lucy Westenra's second death.

John stood silent awhile, allowing the wind and cold to speak for him. Then he went about the morbid business of claiming two knives from the dead gypsies, leaving a gun as he found no bullets that would suit it. The company left the gypsies to be buried by whatever force would claim them, the snow or the wolves, or perhaps the Count. They left the coffin in the snow; it was too heavy to draw after them.

Their clothes were stiff with sheets of ice when they finally entered the hall of the now sanctified castle. The burning incense, frankincense and myrrh, was strong near the door once it had been shut and the air displaced by the wind was able to settle around the men. On the other side of the door, bearing the brunt of the storm, a gold crucifix hung stolidly with the form of a dying Lord. A necklace of garlic was nailed firmly in place beside it, making the door identical to every entrance into the castle and the Count's withdrew deeper into the castle. Having wrapped the bodies in the rugs Hellsing had brought for himself and Mrs. Harker, they carried Mina up the stairs first. After walking some ways down the cold corridor, their solemn faces never turning to their neighbor, the men opened a door and went inside a furnished, though neglected room. They laid the small corpse on a sofa, and all but Jonathan looked at the room's contents. A large stone fireplace was empty and frigid, but after bringing Quincey Morris's corpse into the room, Dr. Seward and Lord Godalming spared no time. They ravaged the Count's shelves and drawers, resenting the vampire's property; they tossed linens, books, journals, even bound stacks of foreign banknotes towards the fireplace, where Abraham was crouched, melting the end of a wax candle with a match. Sitting in the darkening room wearing his old furs for warmth once again, Abraham, by the light of the candle he fixed to the stone hearth, would glance at the faces or words on the bills as his knife cut the strings that bound them, and he would read each title of the books he was given before tearing out their contents by the handful. A hair-raising crack turned all their heads - even raising Harker's from the sofa where Mina lay - but their alarm only found Lord Godalming who apologized as he held up a broken wooden sculpture, badly degraded, brittle and dry: good for burning. By the strength of his hands and then his boot, Lord Godalming broke off the wings and horns, and finally the head and tail of the wooden monstrosity with a blunt callousness the other men understood. Accepting the splintered pieces with a soft word of thanks, Abraham proceeded to stuff the papers into the fireplace, around the wooden sculpture, his eye, at times, meeting with the decapitated beast's vacant gaze.

The books on the shelves were thickly coated with dust. When John sat himself down beside Abraham and proceeded to gut the books and journals with twice the older man's vigor, his whole front was powdered. His fur coat shed dust as he moved, "Professor, we'll need food and water. I don't know how long the storm may last, but food, anything, will give us some security. I'm worried about Jonathan. He won't move from that couch; even though it is freezing in here, he won't put on his gloves. He's stroking her hair, which is icy cold, I know - my hand brushed against it only briefly. But he will make himself sick at this rate."

All they had managed to carry into the castle - in their single trip, barred from a second by the storm - were tools that fit on their person, and a satchel each, which, among other things, contained a little bread and jerky. If the vampire wished for them to starve, and the storm was his evil doing, Abraham was in no fear of satisfying the Count. He murmured loud enough for the others to hear him, John stuffing a final collection of pages beneath the sculpture, while Abraham kept a twisted handful in his lap. Taking up the handful, Abraham brought it over the candle. He then pushed the burning paper beneath the sculpture, into the nest of material they had gathered, "We'll find the kitchen. Likely there won't be much for us there, but it's worth the effort. Otherwise, we can wait. We have water – someone," he lifted his voice further to make sure the others would not miss a word, "Someone must bring a pot from the kitchen and fill it with snow. The well will have frozen over. But do not go to the windows or doors unaccompanied. I believe it unwise to travel alone, go always in pairs. One of you will stay with me, two of you will go." It was apparent to all that Jonathan was in no shape to leave the room, to revisit the haunting memories he had of Castle Dracula.

Lord Godalming, who had fallen into a chair as though he were too exhausted to move, was instantly revived and standing, waiting on Dr. Seward who wordlessly volunteered himself for the job. This left Harker and Van Hellsing in the room with the corpses. Abraham slipped pages beneath the sculpture, and blew softly as the foreign words were scorched away. He continued to coax the flames with additional pages. Jonathan remained seated, not on the sofa with young Mina, but on the floor before her. He was not facing her, but was curled into himself with his knees drawn up and his empty eyes fixed on nothing but the unoccupied space before him.

Lord Godalming and Dr. Seward wandered through gloom and darkness, carrying lanterns taken from the Professor's long leather bag. The howling wind that cut across the castle's old architecture and the shadows the beams from their lanterns cast, were hard on the men's charred nerves. Thinking of setting permanent landmarks by lighting candles as they walked, the two men searched the halls and rooms they passed through, shining light into the corners and over the tables to find the various candelabras that stood there. All of these proved empty.

Shadows wavered, growing and receding eerily, like creatures taking refuge in nooks and crevices. The storm blew more fiercely, the howling wails of the wind, the distant banging of loose roofing or the scraping of near tree branches at the windows; through the din that cluttered their minds and set hot coals beneath their already weakened resolve, the two men strode onward, searching for doorways, hoping that no additional 'wives' or monsters of other breeds dwelt in the castle. Lord Godalming carried a pistol, as well as both of Quincey Morris' revolvers, though the chambers of one were empty and the second contained only two bullets. John carried a revolver lent to him by Lord Godalming, but none of the bullets either of the two men carried were blessed or imbued with silver. The consolation the firearms provided, was shallow, while the voice of the wind pierced their hearts.

They carried on.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

Jonathan Harker had not moved from the sofa. Dr. Van Hellsing was before the fire, feeding it, and taking its warmth. His back was turned to Jonathan, and he was giving the man some peace.

Jonathan's hand went to the black sheath at his side, where he unbuckled and drew out the kukri knife he had used to slit the Count's throat, and which had nearly succeeded in impaling the demon's heart more than once. The tip had broken off during their final confrontation with the Count.

Slowly lifting his head as he brought the knife into his lap, Jonathan viewed the smear of dried blood which was faint across the flat of the blade. Slowly, he ran his thumb along the edge, and then pressed down. Taking his thumb away, a thin cut, which barely bled, reached across it. There was a pause during which he stared at the knife, and then he swept his bleeding thumb over the flat of the blade, at one point overlapping the Count's smear. Quietly, he got up.

The kukri knife swung down at the back of Van Hellsing's neck, but made contact with his head and glanced off. Abraham threw himself to the side, turning to see his attacker as his hand went to his pocket where he had stored his holy wafers. He stopped, seeing Harker looming above him, and hesitated. There was an almost careless sway in Jonathan's movements, and a shadow over his features - a trick of the light that made him horrific, accompanied by the sound of the wind and snow swirling around the castle. There was an orange light in his dark eyes, reflecting the fire that also colored the white hairs on his head - dark hair that had whitened the night Jonathan had discovered that Mina was cursed, that she was fated to become one of the undead, unless they managed to kill Dracula.

Abraham got to his feet, retreating and circling around Jonathan as he now placed his friend's back to the flames instead of his own. Jonathan swung forward with the knife, and a struggle ensued as Abraham wrestled with the knife wielding hand. Perhaps as the much younger man, or as a man who had recently assumed a madman's grotesque might, Harker matched Van Hellsing's strength with a single arm. He suddenly grabbed at the Professor's coat with his free hand, wrenching him, continuing to pull at him as their fierce wrestling continued.

"Harker!" Abraham called out, more than once, and then cringed bitterly, gritting his teeth with effort while Jonathan's expression remained unchanged. "Harker! Stop this!" he barked, pushing back as the knife glinted in the firelight, flashing with every sharp shift in their struggle. "Is he in your mind? Or have you lost yours? Whoever your demon is, Jonathan, fight him! You know me. What reason have you to kill me? Kill me, and you will have done the Count a favor. Jonathan!"

Eventually, with a few heavy wrenches and a kick that pushed Abraham's boot back over the dusty floorboards, worn smooth with use, Jonathan upset Abraham's balance, and together they fell: Van Hellsing atop Harker, and Harker stumbling back into the fireplace. There was a sharp cry as immediately Jonathan let go of Abraham and the knife, burning his hands as he desperately tried to get out of the flames that had instantly swallowed his whitened hair. Abraham pulled him out of the fire, disregarding the flames that engulfed Jonathan's fur coat, and dragged him away from the fireplace. Quickly removing Jonathan's coat, and his own before it could catch fire, Abraham rolled Jonathan onto his front and back, until the remaining flames had been adequately smothered. All the while, the room filled with smoke and the stench of burning fur.

In the end, Jonathan moaned on the hard floor, his movements no longer loose and strange. His skin was flushed with heat and pain. Much of his hair had burned and curled in on itself, making him appear nearly bald; much of his facial hair, and all of his left eyebrow, were gone. His clothes carried embers, charred and smoking around his collar and front. Reaching for what was closest, Abraham took the rug they had wrapped around Mina and used it to smother out the remaining embers, patting Jonathan over quickly, not meaning to do more harm as it caused his friend to groan and eventually become eerily quiet - as though there was no use in being piteous.

Abraham took the small black velvet bag from his pocket and drew out a host which he placed on his tongue. He repeated the Lord's Prayer under his breath as he went to Jonathan and applied a host to his brow.

It had no effect. Despite this, Abraham moved the host, tucking it into the collar of Jonathan's shirt, straightening his scorched clothes in the process. Abraham swallowed and replaced the host in his mouth, unbuckling his holster in order to have his gun ready. He carried a stake and mallet at his other hip, still stained with vampiric blood. After replacing his coat, Abraham watched the door and the many windows through the white wafting smoke, crouched at Jonathan's head, lifting up the burnt shirt collar to check the host intermittently. Whatever had happened to his young friend, it left Dr. Van Hellsing baffled.


End file.
